


Chaotic Good

by Nahiel



Series: Evil Author Day 2018 [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Abuse, Custody Battle, Gen, Incomplete, Rape Recovery, Sexual Abuse, abuse recovery, irresponsible adults, responsible adults
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-18 21:21:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13690044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nahiel/pseuds/Nahiel
Summary: Fred and George Weasley might be agents of chaos, but they're also quite brilliant, and more than able to recognize signs of abuse in their adopted younger brother when they see it.  Unfortunately, every other adult in the world seems content to ignore it.  So, when they reach their own age of majority, they decide it's time to do something about it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a part of my Evil Author Day set for 2018 (Evil Author Day being an event started by one of my favorite writers, wherein works are posted incomplete in all their incomplete glory). It may never be finished, and as such, is a read at your own risk. It is posted here, unedited, in all of its glory. Please do not ask me for updates regarding this story, or any other story in the Evil Author Day series.

 

When Harry was eleven, Fred and George noticed that he was far too thin upon his arrival at Hogwarts.  But they didn’t know the child all that well, and moved on with their lives.  They also noticed that Harry didn’t get any gifts that weren’t from people he’d met at Hogwarts, but they were still a little too young to put one and one together and get two.

 

When Harry was twelve, Fred and George rescued him from a room with too many locks on the door and bars on the window.  Ron was too young to understand that yes, it was a rescue, and it wasn’t just a fun trip to get his friend.  Harry played it off like it didn’t matter.

 

But Fred and George were both hat stalls in their first year, Fred for his intelligence and George for his cunning, and they knew how much it mattered.  When they told their parents, however, their words were brushed aside as flights of fancy in their father’s case, or ignored in favor of the more dangerous act of flying the car in their mother’s.

 

When Harry was thirteen, the school year after he’d saved their little sister’s life, he began to look haunted.  He jumped at sudden noises and flinched away from unexpected touches.  Whatever was going on in his home life with the Dursleys, it was clearly escalating.  Fred and George refused to sit back and continue to watch it happening.

 

This time, they skipped talking to their parents and went instead to McGonagall, who frowned and told them that she would look into it.

 

That summer, Fred and George were horrified to see that Harry was being picked up by his Uncle once more.

 

When Harry was fourteen, he stopped showering around other students.  He would change clothes in the bathroom, with a locked stall between him and the rest of the world.  Nobody touched him anymore, because Harry didn’t allow it.

 

Even though they were almost certain that it would do no good, Fred and George went straight to the Headmaster.  The old man looked them both straight in the eye, smiled, and told them not to worry about it.  That Harry was safest with his family over the summer breaks, and that he was certain any familial difficulties would soon blow over.

 

Neither Fred nor George bothered to argue, because arguing with stupid and crazy didn’t tend to go well.  Instead, they started to plan.

 

When Harry was fifteen, unfortunately, there was Umbridge, who disrupted every plan they’d made.  They couldn’t tell whether Harry’s new signs of trauma, the nightmares and the way he’d gone so quiet and looked so fragile, were because of her, the Dursleys, or because of the terrible events that ended the Triwizard Tournament.

 

No matter the cause, it was a disaster, and one of a magnitude that neither Fred nor George could have predicted.  Their plan would have to wait, at least until they could be more certain that their actions wouldn’t bring further harm to Harry.

 

After they left Hogwarts in an explosive rage, after they’d launched their business, and after sitting through a Ministry-proctored NEWT exam, Fred and George found themselves looking at one another with raised eyebrows.

 

“I do believe that it’s time, brother-mine.”

 

“I do believe that you’re right.”

 

Instead of leaving the Ministry, returning to their shop and their everyday lives, the two made their way further into the Ministry and prepared to unleash their plan.  The wizarding world wouldn’t know what hit it.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

The first Harry knew of any change coming to his life was when Dudley was knocked off of him by a blasting spell.  His cousin hit the wall with a wet, meaty thud, leaving Harry lying on the bed, half-dressed, with his heart pounding in fright.

 

He sat up, slowly, his head spinning, and found himself staring at a tiny witch who could be no taller than five feet, her cherubic face set in grim lines, her shoulders shaking with the force of the breaths she drew in.

 

Harry pulled his shirt down, conscious of the bruises, bite marks, and scars which covered his thin frame.  “Hello,” he said uncertainly.

 

“Mr. Potter, I am from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Children’s Services division,” she said briskly.  “I’m here to execute an emergency custody order on your behalf.”

 

Harry froze.  “...emergency custody?” he echoed weakly.  Why would anyone care about him now?  What had changed?  He hdan’t even realized that the Ministry had a group that dealt with children.

 

The woman nodded.  “A complaint was filed on your behalf,” she explained.  “Upon further investigation, it was determined that your previous caseworker had been lax in her assigned duties, and not performed the necessary welfare checks on your home.”

 

Harry looked down at his knobby knees, which looked all the knobbier after a month of Dursley-sanctioned meals.  “Who made the report?”

 

“Misters Fred and George Weasley,” she said.  “And I am Rebecca Mercier, your new caseworker.”

 

Harry blinked at her.  He heard the words, but found them difficult to process.  Fred and George had done that?  For him?  Why had they done something when literally no one else ever had, no matter how many times Harry had tried to explain?

 

Rebecca’s eyes softened, and with it, her tone did.  “They’re waiting outside for you,” she said carefully.  “Why don’t you go to them and leave me to handle things in here?”  She stepped further into the room and offered Harry her hand.

 

Harry didn’t take it, but did stand.  He walked down the stairs on shaky legs, averting his eyes when instructed to do so.  She wasn’t fast enough, though, and Harry was almost positive that he walked past his aunt’s corpse.

 

As Rebecca had promised, Fred and George were standing outside, both looking nervous.  When they spotted Harry, their expressions changed: one to fury, the other to concern.

 

Harry didn’t know what to do with that, so he just stared helplessly at them both and hoped the world would start making sense again sometime soon.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

George’s heart dropped when Harry left the unassuming Muggle house.  He was thin, impossibly more so than usual, and looked like he wasn’t processing anything.  He was probably in some kind of shock.

 

Beside him, Fred let out a wordless snarl of rage.

 

While George appreciated the sentiment behind said snarl, that wasn’t what Harry would need at the moment.  He patted Fred’s arm in wordless consolation, then took a slow, small step in Harry’s general direction.

 

Harry’s eyes immediately snapped towards George and his hand twitched at his side.  George had no doubt that Harry would have pulled his wand, had it been on him.

 

George raised his hands in a universal gesture of peace and surrender.  “It’s okay,” he murmured, talking like he’d once heard Charlie talk to a particularly skittish dragon.  The analogy seemed to be an apt one.  He took another small step forward.

 

Harry licked his lips, his tongue darting out and disappearing.  “What did you do?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

 

George ached for him.  “What should have been done a long time ago,” he answered.  “We’ve been talking to people every year that we’ve known you, every time we noticed something new, but nobody ever did anything.  So, this year, we decided to take matters into our own hands.”

 

Harry stared at them both blankly, his green eyes dull with confusion.  “I don’t—”  He stopped and took a deep breath.  “I don’t understand.  The Headmaster said—”

 

“Fuck Dumbledore,” Fred snarled.

 

George winced when Harry jumped.  “What my darling brother means to say is that the Headmaster may have had… an unrealistic expectation of what your life here really looks like.”

 

Harry shook his head slowly.  “I told him,” he said.  He swallowed.

 

George wanted to hug him, but he didn’t dare move.  Not yet.  “Well,” he said instead.  “Fred and I got tired of being ignored when we talked to adults about you, so as soon as we were the adults, we decided to do what we could.”

 

Harry blinked at them.  “What happens now?”  His voice was small, and he hunched in on himself.

 

George couldn’t resist anymore.  He took another step forward, and when Harry didn’t flinch away, he continued forward until he was close enough to pull Harry into his arms.  Harry didn’t protest, didn’t pull away, and instead leaned hesitantly against George.  His whole body trembled against him.

 

“We’re going to figure it out,” George whispered.  He closed his eyes and breathed out.  Harry was here, he was breathing, and the rest could be dealt with later.  “Right, Fred?”

 

“Absolutely.”  Fred’s voice softened, and he came to stand beside George.  “You don’t have to worry about what happens next, Harry, because George and I are going to take care of everything.  You can… you can just worry about resting a bit.”

 

Harry made a small, tired sound and buried his face in George’s robes.  George didn’t think it was his imagination that he could feel Harry’s tears through his robes, that he could hear his breath hitching in small sobs.

 

He closed his eyes and held Harry closer.  “We’ve got you,” he murmured.  He shifted to glance at Fred, who caught on quickly and came to bracket Harry in his arms, helping to make him feel secure.

 

Harry let out another shuddering sob and burrowed closer to George.  “You promise?” His voice was choked with tears.

 

“We absolutely promise,” Fred said quickly.

 

“We solemnly swear—”  George cut off at the sound of a loud crack of Apparition.  He felt Harry freeze in his arms, and immediately whispered, “It’s okay.  Fred and I are here.  We’ll take care of it.”  Although, depending on who it was, he knew their presence might not be enough.

 

But George would be damned if he let Harry face whatever, or whoever, it was on his own.  They were the adults, after all.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Rebecca Mercier hadn’t known what to think when the twins had shown up with a request for an emergency custody reassignment.  Such things were rare, and could only be granted in cases of extreme abuse or neglect.  And that was to say nothing of the subject of the request, so she’d gone immediately to her supervisor.  She hadn’t expected to have a request for investigation granted, but upon reviewing the case files for the boy’s home inspections, her supervisor had uncovered a distinct lack of said inspections.

 

Rebecca emerged from the meeting with permission to investigate immediately, and to do anything necessary to ascertain the health of the Potter boy, up to and including utilizing fatal force.  Once she had confirmed his status, she was authorized to immediately grant temporary custody to the Weasley twins, if she found such a thing necessary.

 

It was almost needless to say that she felt it necessary.

 

The difficulties began with the Aunt, who attempted to stop Rebecca from entering the house.  She hadn’t hesitated to cut her down, not when she’d heard a cry of pain from the second story.  Would she have preferred not to kill the Muggle?  Of course!  But witches and wizards who worked for the DMLE Children’s Services had to be quick with their wands in defense of their charges.

 

And then she’d found her charge, who looked terrified as his monster of a cousin molested him.

 

Him, she’d fully intended to kill, and was pleased to find that she’d succeeded.  She escorted Harry, who was looking more and more fragile by the second, out of the house and to the twins, who immediately took Harry in hand, leaving Rebecca to go and gather Harry’s things and prepare her notes on the home situation.

 

She was in the middle of trying to find Harry’s school things, and failing, when she heard the crack of someone Apparating outside.

 

Rebecca dropped the few things of Harry’s that she’d managed to find and stormed outside.  There was no reason for someone to be Apparating onto the Muggle street, not that didn’t have to do with her charge.  The twins wouldn’t leave with Harry, not until she’d released them, and there was no one else who could be coming.  

 

She found herself glad that she’d hurried, because she found the Weasley twins standing between Harry and a rather famous old wizard wearing brightly colored robes.

 

“What have the two of you done?” Dumbledore was asking.

 

Not for the first time, Rebecca was glad that she went to Beauxbatons, and was therefore never subjected to what the Headmaster might refer to as fashion.  She stepped in front of the twins, drawing her wand in a smooth motion.  “They took the proper steps and alerted the DMLE to a heinous case of child abuse.”

 

Dumbledore reared back like she’d slapped him.  “Harry was fine with the Dursleys, miss.  I don’t know what you’ve done, but you’ll need to undo it so that the wards that protect Harry can be put back in place.”

 

Rebecca almost pointed out that necromancy was illegal, but decided that was too cavalier.  Instead, she smiled thinly.  “Your definition of fine and my own are clearly quite different,” she said.  “And as the representative of the DMLE, mine is the one that matters.”

 

“Young lady,” Dumbledore started.

 

Rebecca cut him off with a scowl and a flick of her wand.  “Don’t call me that.”  She stepped forward so that she was nose to nose with the old man.  “I need to ask you to leave, at this point, as you’re interfering with an active investigation.”

 

Dumbledore had the gall to laugh at her.  “Do you imagine that you have some kind of authority over me?”  He drew his own wand.  “Harry Potter is my charge.  You don’t have the political capital needed to remove him from my care.”

 

Rebecca blinked.  Political capital?  What kind of game did this old man think he was playing?  “We’re not here for politics,” she said flatly.  “I’m here to save a child’s life.”

 

“Harry Potter is in no danger here,” Dumbledore responded.  “It would be more dangerous by far to remove him from the care of his family.”

 

Rebecca closed her eyes and exhaled slowly.  She wasn’t in the habit of arguing with idiots.  “So your claim is that the Potter boy has always been perfectly fine with his relatives, and are willing to swear to that as his magical guardian?”  She heard Harry let out a shuddering sob behind her, and realized the poor boy was probably terrified that she’d walk away.  She wouldn’t, but she couldn’t focus on him at the moment.  She had to worry about the snake in front of her.

 

Dumbledore relaxed slowly, his smile reappearing and his wand lowering.  “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” he said in a tone of relief.  “I’m so glad you understand me.”

 

“I understand that I’m placing you under arrest for negligence of a wizarding child leading to severe abuse,” Rebecca snapped.  Before he could respond, she shot a hex at him, binding him and knocking him to the ground.  She raised a small, localized anti-Apparition ward, so that he couldn’t get away, and rendered him unconscious with a final, “ _ Stupefy _ !”

 

Finally, she took a deep breath and turned back to the twins, and to Harry.  Both twins were staring at her, gobsmacked, while Harry stared at the bound body of Dumbledore on the ground.  He looked like he’d been hexed, given the stunned expression on his face.

 

“I have your things mostly packed,” she said softly to Harry, her voice gentle.  He was clearly in a fragile place, and she didn’t want to risk upsetting him.  “But the bulk of your school things seems to be missing.  Can you tell me where they might be?”

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

She’d arrested Dumbledore.  She’d knocked him out and tied him up in defense of Harry.  Nobody had ever... 

 

Harry’s thoughts were spiralling.  He couldn't get them under control.  He stared at Rebeca, his eyes wide.  He wanted to say something, but he didn’t even know what he wanted to say.  Maybe he was trying to thank her?  That seemed reasonable…

 

A few minutes passed in silence, then one of the twins gripped him gently by the shoulder.  “Harry,” he said.  “Rebecca asked you a question.”

 

Harry swallowed, trying to get something into his dry throat.  “I didn’t hear it,” he admitted.  He looked down, shame making him avert his eyes.  He felt like he was breaking apart, like he couldn’t take anything else.  The hand on his shoulder, strong and friendly, seemed like it was the only thing holding him together.

 

“I asked if you could tell me where your school things are,” Rebecca said, her tone infinitely patient.  She didn’t seem angry that she had to repeat herself.

 

Harry shivered.  His school things?  “They’re in the cupboard,” he whispered.  He hated the cupboard, and didn’t want to think about it.  But he’d need his things to go back to Hogwarts.

 

“Can you show me the cupboard?”

 

Rebecca had no idea what she was asking of him.  Even so, Harry let out a shuddering sigh and nodded.  He was so tired of being brave all the time, and showing someone the cupboard would have to be brave, but he was sure that she needed to know about it.

 

He grabbed onto one twin’s hand, not even sure why he was doing it but comforted by it all the same, and started grimly into the house.  A sheet covered Aunt Petunia’s feet this time, and Harry averted his eyes.  Uncle Vernon would be furious, and sad, and even though Harry didn’t like Uncle Vernon, he didn’t think it was fair for him to have lost both his wife and his son.

 

At least, Harry thought Dudley was dead.  He wasn’t sad about that.

 

All thoughts of Uncle Vernon left his mind as he approached the cupboard under the stairs, the place he’d lived for the first decade of his life.  He could feel himself growing dizzier as he got closer to it, and had to stop before he was within touching distance.  He was afraid that he would faint.

 

“There,” he said, and pointed at it with a shaky hand.

 

Rebecca followed his hand, and stepped towards the cupboard.

 

Harry turned his back on it before she could open the door.  He found himself face to face with one of the twins, the one whose hand he was currently crushing in his own.  He forced himself to loosen his grip.  “Sorry,” he whispered.

 

Fred or George, Harry didn’t know which, just smiled.  “It’s okay,” the twin said.  The other was just behind him.  “How are you doing?” he asked.

 

Harry didn’t know how to answer, but he supposed his involuntary flinch when he heard Rebecca finally open the cupboard served as answer enough.  “I… I can’t be in here,” he whispered, because he couldn’t.

 

He fled.

 

The twin whose hand he’d crushed followed him, and sat with him on the porch, resting a comforting hand on Harry’s back while they waited for Rebecca and the other twin.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Fred wanted to follow his brother, to help him comfort Harry, but at the same time…  He needed to know what was so distressing about the cupboard.  He felt like Harry wouldn’t tell them of his own volition, and he just knew that it was important.  That it would tell them more about Harry’s life with the Dursleys.

 

So he stayed, quietly, and watched as Rebecca opened the cupboard.

 

They’d been surprised to wind up speaking to someone as competent as Rebecca, but they were both pleased.  Fred, particularly, was pleased by how bloodthirsty she seemed to be in pursuit of her goals.  Harry deserved someone who was bloodthirsty on his behalf.

 

“Oh, Merlin’s balls!”

 

The exclamation, which seemed uncharacteristic for the kind woman, drew Fred from his thoughts.  “What’s wrong?”  He walked up to the cupboard door.

 

She’d emptied it, mostly.  Harry’s school belongings were now scattered on the floor outside.  But inside… At first, Fred wasn’t sure of the problem.  He thought it was just a small cupboard.  And then he spotted the cot and his heart dropped.

 

“They wouldn’t,” he breathed.  Harry had never slept there.  It had to just be a storage space, that was the only thing that made sense.

 

But there was a small, crudely drawn picture of a happy family on the wall that said otherwise.

 

Fred gritted his teeth, turned on his heel, and stalked out of the house.  He stormed past Harry and George and stalked up to Dumbledore’s prone body.  He studied the old man and realized that he was looking at an absolute monster.

 

His lips curled into a snarl and he kicked him in the ribs, as hard as he could.  Because he was spelled unconscious, Dumbledore didn’t react.  Fred did it again.

 

“Fred!”  George grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him back.  “Have you lost your mind?  What are you doing?”

 

“They made him sleep in a cupboard!” Fred snarled.  “How long, Harry?”

 

Harry, still on the steps, his eyes wet with tears, flinched back.  “Until I got my first letter from Hogwarts,” he whispered.

 

Fred dropped to his knees in front of him, his knees cracking on the pavement.  He didn’t care.  He took Harry’s hands in his own and squeezed tightly.  “We should have done something sooner,” he said, his voice rough with unshed tears.

 

Harry shook his head.  “You did something now,” he breathed shakily.  He used Fred’s grip on his hands to pull him slightly closer, but stopped like he’d just realized what he was doing.  “It’s more than anyone else has ever done.”

 

Fred continued forward and dropped Harry’s hands, only to pull him close in a warm embrace.  He really did feel fragile, delicate in a way that Fred just didn’t know how to deal with.  But he held him close anyway, and felt his trembling ease.

 

Rebecca emerged from the house, Harry’s things packed and shrunk for easy movement.  “I’m going to authorize the two of you to take him home,” she said, her voice frigid.  “I have found these people to be absolutely unfit to ever raise a child, and as such, am awarding _ temporary _ custody to you two, Misters Fred and George Weasley.  You will be expected to defend your custody of him in open court a date that is yet to be determined.”

 

Fred exhaled slowly, his arms tightening around Harry’s slender form.  “Thank you, Rebecca,” he murmured.

 

“We’ll take good care of him,” George added.  He took Harry’s things from her.

 

“Good.”  Rebecca looked at Harry, then nodded.  “Take him home, gentlemen, and know that I’ll be on your side when it comes to the court hearing.  You were the ones who came for him, and that means a lot to me.”

 

It was the best they could hope for, Fred mused as he scooped Harry into his arms, ignoring the boy’s startled squeak.  “I’m going to Apparate you,” Fred warmed him in a whisper.  Out loud, he added, “Thank you again,” as Harry’s fingers clenched in his robes.

 

And then they were gone, George following behind.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry flinched away from them as soon as they landed in their flat, and Fred felt almost guilty for bringing him there without warning him. Well, mostly without. Logically, he should have assumed, but he supposed there wasn’t really any such thing as logic when Harry was as panicky as he was.

“Have you eaten anything today?” George asked, and Fred let himself relax a little bit.

Harry started, clearly not expecting to be addressed. “No,” he said, his voice fragile, quiet. There was still some hoarseness from his earlier tears, and his eyes were still rimmed red. Even impossibly more quietly, Harry whispered, “The Dursleys don’t always feed me during the summer.”

They didn’t always feed him? What the hell did that even mean? Fred cut off the thoughts, and his anger, viciously. Now wasn’t the time. “Well, we won’t have that problem here,” he said, forcing some cheer into his voice. “What are you in the mood for? We have a million options, and we can always go out and get something if you’d like.”

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Harry said. He stared down at his hands, not meeting either of their eyes.

Fred exchanged a glance with George, then they both looked back at Harry. “You’re not a bother,” George said gently. He knelt in front of Harry and reached out to carefully take his hands. “Remember, we pushed to take you from the Dursleys. We want you here with us.”

Harry looked up, finally, and Fred ached to see that his eyes were a little damp still, like he was getting ready to cry again. Then, in a voice that was barely there, he said, “Thank you.”

“So, what would you like for lunch?” Fred asked, trying to inject something a bit more lighthearted into the conversation. “We could always go out and get you some Acid Pops if you’re really not sure.”

Harry winced and shook his head. “No thank you,” he said. He didn’t even seem to realize it was a joke. “If you have it, maybe some soup?” he suggested quietly after a long silence stretched. “I don’t think that I could eat much more than that, and I’m not even sure about the soup.”

“Soup it is,” Fred said, and swept off into the kitchen. It wouldn’t take long to get some ready, especially since they’d gone the quick, cheap, easy way for a lot of their food, and had Muggle cans of it stored in their pantry. Their Mum would have a heart attack at the sight of it, but fortunately, she hadn’t come by the shop yet, nor their flat.

Fred wondered idly if that would change by the time she found out that Harry was with them, even as he stirred the soup and kept it heating evenly. Muggle soups weren’t nearly so difficult as Potions, so it wasn’t like it took all of his concentration.

By the time the soup was successfully heated, he turned to find that George had laid out three bowls. For a moment Fred was puzzled, given that he and George had already eaten before they’d taken their NEWTs at the Ministry, and there was no way his brother was hungry, but then Fred realized. George didn’t want to make Harry feel awkward by making him eat alone.

Well, that was fine. He’d made probably too much anyway, especially if Harry’s appetite was as bad as he was implying that it was. Fred ladelled the bulk of the soup into Harry’s bowl, then split what was left between himself and George. When Harry opened his mouth to protest, George tapped him on the nose with his spoon.

“Fred and I already ate lunch,” George said. “This is more of a midday snack for us than anything else. You, on the other hand, need all the fattening you can get.”

“The better to eat you up,” Fred added when Harry let out a small, protesting noise. “Come on, you’re not gonna win this one, Harry.”

Harry let out a small sigh and, instead of protesting any further, raised a small spoonful of soup to his lips. He ate it, then hunched over his bowl and took another spoonful, which he ate much more quickly. Fred watched, a little appalled, as Harry practically inhaled his soup, until he abruptly stopped, with just a bit of broth left in the bowl.

He looked at Fred, then George, then flushed and dropped his gaze. “Sorry,” he muttered.

Fred glanced down at his untouched, still-steaming soup. “It’s fine,” he said quickly. “You must have been very hungry.”

Harry just shrugged.

“Do you want more?” George offered, and made to slide his own bowl over to Harry.

Harry shook his head. “No, thank you,” he whispered. “If I eat anymore, there’s a good chance that I’ll be sick. I can’t…” He stopped talking, swallowed, and lifted one hand to toy with the bit of broth left in the bowl. “It’s hard to eat a lot after I leave the Dursleys’ care.”

They were monsters, and Fred found himself almost feeling sorry that the Aunt had been killed in Harry’s rescue. Surely, surely Azkaban, or perhaps the Muggle equivalent, awaited the surviving Uncle. It had to, or there was no justice anywhere in their world.

“Well, we’ll just have to get you used to eating again,” George said brightly. He glanced at Fred, and Fred nodded his support. Of course they would get Harry eating again. “Now, Harry, we find ourselves with an abundance of free time, since we both took a day off from the shop, so is there anything you’d like to do this afternoon?”

Harry shrugged. “Maybe read a little? Someplace quiet?”

George deflated, but Fred supposed he understood. This was a lot for Harry; he couldn’t imagine what their young friend was going through. “Okay,” Fred said. “Why don’t George and I show you the room we set aside for you? And then maybe you could read some of your school books, or we have some novels you might like—”

“My textbooks are fine,” Harry said quickly. His spoon clattered against his bowl when he dropped it, and Harry flinched, like he expected to be struck. When no such blow came, he straightened and looked around, like he was gauging the reaction in the room.

Fred was starting to get the idea that they had no idea what they’d gotten themselves into. “Then let’s show you to your room,” he said.

George grabbed Harry’s school things as they walked past them where they’d been left in the sitting room, and Fred carefully lifted Harry’s cage for his owl. Hedwig let out a soft, scolding hoot when he jostled her, but otherwise didn’t complain. Together, they escorted Harry to his new room.

It was relatively plain, but the bed was serviceable, and there was plenty of lighting in the room, due in large part to the massive window. Currently, it showed Diagon Alley bustling below them. Harry, to Fred’s surprise, flinched back from the sight.

“What’s wrong?” George asked quickly, having also noticed the flinch.

“People will see me,” Harry said quickly. “I don’t… not that I’m not grateful, because I am, but I just—”

“They can’t see in,” Fred said. He walked over and tapped the window with his wand after setting Hedwig’s perch down. The window immediately shifted to the Great Lake at Hogwarts, half of it underwater so that Harry could see the fish if he wanted. “It will show whatever you want it to, as long as you want to see outside, and there aren’t privacy wards up.”

Harry relaxed. “Thank you,” he whispered. He reached out with his hand and touched the window, his fingers shaking. “Thank you both, very much.”

“It’s our pleasure,” George said, and bowed with a low flourish. “Do you want company while you’re reading?”

Harry shook his head. “No,” he said. He looked away from them, and didn’t look back at them as they said their goodbyes and excused themselves from the room.

Once the door had closed between them, Fred sagged into George, who leaned against him in return. They both leaned back against Harry’s door. “He’s such a wreck,” Fred said, keeping his voice pitched low. “Merlin’s breath, George, are we sure that we can handle this?”

George shook his head. “I don’t know, Fred,” he replied, his voice just as low. “I have no idea. But we have to try, now that we have him.”

Fred let out a small, tired laugh. “That, brother mine, was never in any doubt.”

ooOOooOOoo

Harry managed to hold himself together until the door closed, until a few minutes after the twins left him alone. He had to, because he wasn’t sure if there was anyone listening on the other side. The twins had those Extendable Ears, and if they heard him, they might…

They might be angry with him. And they’d been so kind to him, already, that he couldn’t stand the thought of making them upset.

“I can’t do this,” Harry gasped out. Hedwig hooted at him from her cage, the sound sharp and alarmed, and Harry flinched to hear it. He was frightening his owl. Merlin help him, what good was he? He couldn’t even keep it together when nothing was wrong!

What kind of hero was he? How could Dumbledore expect him to save the world when he couldn’t even save himself? Did Dumbledore know about the things that Dudley had done to him over the years? Harry had thought he’d told him, but… And if he did know, then how could Dumbledore expect him to… to save anyone?

He hadn’t even been able to save Sirius.

The first sob broke free, and Harry knew there was no fighting it anymore. He just wanted to keep himself quiet enough so as not to be heard by the twins, because he didn't want to make them upset. They didn’t deserve to be upset after what they'd done, going to the Ministry for him, rescuing him from… from…

By the time he gave in to the rest of the tears that were threatening, he was curled up on his new bed, his head buried beneath a pillow so that the sound of his grief would be muffled enough so as not to travel. Hedwig was still making noise, but he could barely hear her. She must be so panicked.

What kind of a wizard was he, that he couldn’t even comfort his owl when she was so worried about him?

“Sorry,” he gasped out, over and over and over again, his voice rising against his will. He managed to keep it from hitting the wailing shriek that it wanted to, but it was a battle hard fought, and by the end of it, he lay on his bed, limp and shaking, his voice hoarse, his eyes swollen with tears.

He had so much to apologize for, that once he’d gotten started, it was almost impossible to stop. And the worst thing was that the people who needed to hear it most, Cedric and Sirius, never would. No matter how loudly he cried.

An awful sound, the sound of metal clattering on metal, broke through Harry’s sobbing. He’d just barely managed to focus on Hedwig’s cage when she finally broke free and flew directly to Harry, where she perched on the pillow beside him. She hooted reprovingly at him, the sound sharp and chiding.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I don’t know what happened.” He was so tired suddenly, his eyes felt too heavy to keep open, his body felt too heavy to move. “I didn’t mean to make you worried.”

Hedwig made a softer, cooing sound, then nuzzled against Harry’s face, her soft feathers silky against his skin.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Harry whispered, even as he lost the battle to keep his eyes open. “I just… I don’t want this to be a dream, Hedwig, and I don’t want this to go wrong if it isn't. And I don’t know how to make it go well. I don’t want to make things worse for them, Hedwig, and I don’t want to go back to… to Vernon.”

Because Petunia wasn’t an option anymore. She was just one more body that could be laid at his feet, and Dudley too.

The thought followed him into an uneasy, unhappy sleep.

ooOOooOOoo

Rebecca made sure that Dumbledore, still unconscious, still tied up, was placed on a bed in a position that would most likely keep the old man from being too stiff when he was brought back to consciousness, and covered the two Muggles’ bodies with preservation spells. They would need to be examined once she was finished with her investigation, so that she wasn’t accused of Muggle baiting or anything similar.

And then she waited.

It wasn’t long at all before the living room door opened and a truly massive Muggle man entered. His face started turning red the moment he saw her, and he bellowed, “I won’t have you freaks in my house!” He lunged towards her, and, with a neat flick of her wand, she knocked him to the ground and bound him, much like she had Dumbledore. Unlike Dumbledore, she didn’t knock Vernon unconscious.

She had questions for him.

She tipped a drop or two of Veritaserum into the Muggle’s mouth and waited. Once his eyes had glazed over, she set up her quill and parchment, then asked, “What is your name?”

“Vernon Dursley,” he said dully. He’d stopped struggling against his bindings, thankfully, because he might have done some damage to himself had he not.

She would rather he be in good condition when she gave him to the Aurors for the crimes she was almost positive he’d committed. “How do you feel about your nephew?” she asked.

“I hate him,” Dursley said, his voice still flat. “I would rather he had never been sent to live with us, but he was, and so I made his life miserable. It was the least I could do, since we were stuck with the little freak.”

“Did you enjoy denying him the basic necessities of life?”

“Absolutely.” A ghost of a smile appeared on Dursley’s face, and Rebecca grimaced. The only way to manifest a visible emotion while on Veritaserum was to feel it incredibly strongly. To hate a child so much… But Dursley was continuing. “He was a thorn in my side from the moment he got here, all bright eyed even though his parents had just died. It was unnatural. And the things he made Dudley do to him…”

“You think that Harry made your son rape him?” Rebecca asked, the question escaping her in her shock.

“My son isn’t a pouf!” Dursley snapped. “The little thing had to have bewitched him somehow, probably trying to get pity from us when he was home for the summer or something. Like we’d do that. He’s the reason our Dudders had to go and knock up that stupid little girl from three streets over two years ago. If he hadn’t made Dudley have a taste for it, he never would have done anything to her!”

Rebecca wanted to know more about what Dudley had done to the ‘stupid little girl,’ largely in part so that she could feel more justified for having accidentally killed him in the process of saving her charge, but she refrained from asking the question. She’d learned more than enough, and any further use of Veritaserum would be an abuse of her powers.

He would likely be questioned by people with far more skill than she very soon, though, and she was sure that all of his sins, of which there were probably multitudes, would come out for all the world to hear. She didn’t think that Harry would much care for that, but unfortunately, in this instance, she didn’t think they’d be able to take his wishes entirely into account.

She pulled out one of her emergency Portkeys, which were designed to take recalcitrant parents to Auror holding, and put one of them on Dursley. She returned to the bedroom where she’d left Dumbledore and put the next one on him, then waited. Once Dumbledore had disappeared from the bed, and once she’d verified that Dursley had been taken as well, she left the house with a sharp crack.

Her supervisor was probably going to be furious with her, because Rebecca knew that she’d likely overstepped her authority the minute she’d stunned the leader of the Wizengamot, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Her decision had been a valid one; Dumbledore had been the boy’s Guardian in Magic, and he hadn’t seemed particularly inclined to agree with Harry’s change in custody. Therefore, she’d been well within her rights to detain him the way that she had.

She was only doing what she had to in order to protect a vulnerable member of their society, no matter what anybody else seemed to think of the Potter boy. Her supervisor would just have to deal with it.

If he’d wanted a different outcome, he should have sent a more politically inclined agent.

ooOOooOOoo

George hesitated, glancing at Fred. “Should we disturb him for dinner, do you think?” he asked, glancing at the pizza they’d gone out for.

Fred frowned. “He didn’t eat much lunch, and he’s awfully skinny right now. I don’t think we should leave him in there while we eat, that’s for sure.”

George nodded and headed off to their guest room. Well, it had been a guest room. He was pretty sure it was going to be Harry’s room now, at least for the time being, until somebody more suitable could be found for Harry, if there even was anybody out there who could take care of him.

They hadn’t expected Harry to stay hidden away for most of the afternoon, but they weren’t angry that he had. They were just worried about him, because he’d been so very fragile when they’d taken him from the Dursleys. George had known that Harry’s situation with them hadn’t been good, but he’d never imagined…

Well, it didn’t matter. Whether or not Harry stayed with them until he reached his age of majority, he wasn’t going to be going back to the Dursleys. Rebecca had made that much incredibly clear. And he would be with them at least until the custody hearing, which would hopefully give them a little time to get their little brother in better shape.

But all of that was a matter for another time, when there wasn’t pizza getting cold on the kitchen table.

George tapped on the door. “Harry,” he called gently. When nobody answered, he tapped again, a little bit louder. When Harry still didn’t answer, he opened the door and slipped into the darkened room.

It was quiet, very quiet, and when George flicked on the light, he found Harry curled up in his new bed, his face streaked with tears, his glasses askew on his face. George swallowed at the sight. Harry had been crying, and he and Fred hadn’t realized.

Merlin, they were already fucking up this whole guardian thing, weren’t they?

“Harry,” he said a second time, still gently, hoping to wake Harry without startling him.

It wasn’t meant to be, apparently. Harry jerked awake, his wand in hand and pointed right at George before he’d even blinked the sleep from his eyes. He reached up and adjusted his glasses, then blinked blearily at George. “What time is it?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

George didn’t know if it was from the earlier crying or from sleep, but either way, it made him ache for Harry. “It’s dinner time,” he replied. He didn’t have the exact time, but he could get it, he supposed. “Fred and I went out and got a pizza for us all to share. You didn’t eat much of your lunch, so we’d really like it if you could eat dinner with us.”

Harry got off the bed, stumbling a bit as he did so. He flinched when George reached out to steady him, but allowed the touch. “Thank you,” he whispered. He offered George a wavering smile, then ducked away from him and left the room.

George took a moment to steady himself, because the look in Harry’s eyes was breaking his heart. Could he and Fred really do this, keep him and take care of him? Should they give custody up to someone else, someone more equipped?

Obviously Dumbledore was wrong, and the Dursleys never should have been left with any kind of wizarding child, or potentially any child given what they’d done to their own spawn, but what if he and Fred messed up with Harry too? Were they really mature enough to handle this?

He forced the doubts back with a deep breath, then took another for good measure. Maybe they weren’t the best choices, but they were the ones who’d been willing to go against Dumbledore, and that had to mean something. Besides, Harry was their little brother. He was family. And if there was one thing that was always true about Weasleys, they were always loyal to family.

Except for Percy, but George was pretty sure he’d been adopted anyway, even though Mum never would admit it.

He plastered a smile on his face and headed out to the kitchen. They could do this. And if not, well, George was always a fan of the faking it till he made it school of life. And that hadn’t failed them yet.


	3. Chapter 3

It took Harry a long time to wake up on his first morning with the Weasley twins. It was just that the bed was so comfortable, and he was so warm that it was hard for him to climb his way from the depths of the best sleep he thought he’d ever had. He didn’t have to worry about Dudley hurting him, or any chores, or…

Well, Harry wasn’t sure about the chore thing. Maybe the twins would let him help out around the house? He hoped so. He wanted to do something for them to prove how grateful he was that they’d taken him in, and cooking was the least of what he could do.

It was strange, because that morning was the first morning that he’d found he wanted to cook for someone. He wondered idly if it would be more fun to do when he was wanting to do it. He supposed he would find out, assuming they actually let him cook.

And then, as he climbed slowly towards awareness, he realized that he could hear… screaming? Screaming, coming from the living room. The voice was a familiar one, so Harry wasn’t exactly concerned, and he couldn’t make out the words. Who…

Oh. It was Molly.

Harry sat up and raked a hand through his wild hair, then put his glasses on. He went to the door, then paused to listen. He knew that he probably shouldn’t, that he should go and let Molly and the twins know that he was awake, but… But he wanted to know what Molly was yelling about. Was she angry that the twins had come for him?

The thought hurt in a way that he hadn’t expected. Shouldn’t she be happy? The twins had saved him from… from what would have been a pretty awful fate. She should be glad that he was okay, shouldn’t she?

“I can’t believe that you would just go against Albus’ wishes like that!” she was shouting. Harry could only make out the words because he cracked the door open ever so slightly. He could just see her through the slit in the door, and her face was red with temper. It reminded Harry of Uncle Vernon, and not in a good way. Not that there was ever a good way to be reminded of Uncle Vernon.

“And I can’t believe that you’re so brainwashed that you think it was okay to leave Harry in a place where he was clearly being abused!” one of the twins shot back.

“George, I don’t know why you think he was being hurt—”

“You don’t get to play that card,” George said, his voice getting dark. “You weren’t there, Mum, and you didn’t see what Fred and I saw. So don’t you dare tell me that Harry wasn’t being hurt, because I swear to you, on my magic, that he was being abused.”

Molly let out an angry huff. “Be that as it may, I’m sure that there was a reason that Albus wanted him left there! You might have put yourself in danger by taking in Harry, and George, I don’t want you and your brother to be hurt!”

“We were already targets, Mum!” George sounded exasperated, though Harry couldn’t see his face. “And letting a child stand in danger while adults cower behind him is a coward’s move. And neither Fred nor I are cowards.”

“Are you calling your father and I cowards?” Molly asked, and her voice went very quiet. “Is that what you think of us, George?”

“I think that you’ve been in Dumbledore’s pocket for so long you’ve forgotten to think for yourself,” George shot back. “I think that the best thing that could have happened to the two of you is Dumbledore being arrested yesterday!”

“And what do you know about that, George Weasley?” Molly’s voice rose again, in pitch and volume, until she was practically shrieking. “Did you have something to do with that? Did Harry have something to do with that? Merlin knows I wouldn’t put it past the child! He got his godfather killed, after all!”

Harry couldn't stop the strangled gasp that escaped him, the way that he fell against the door and let out a sharp, distressed noise. She was right. He’d gotten Sirius killed, and now it was his fault that Dumbledore had been arrested. Who else would get hurt because of him?

The sound drew the attention of both Molly and George, and Molly had the grace to look a little bit appalled. But George didn’t want for her to say anything. “I think you need to go,” he said coldly. He crossed the room and stood between Molly and Harry, his fingers resting casually on his wand.

“George,” he started, not wanting George to do something that he and Fred would regret, like ruining their relationship with their family over Harry, who was bringing them nothing but grief.

“No,” George said quietly. “Mum knows that what she just said is unconscionable, and she knows that she should leave, now, before she says something else that she regrets.”

Molly cleared her throat. “George is right,” she said carefully. She turned her back on Harry and moved towards the Floo. “The conversation isn’t over, but for now, George is right.” She left the flat without saying another word to Harry or to George.

Harry closed his eyes. “She hates me,” he whispered, his voice shaking.

“She doesn’t hate you,” George said immediately. “And if she does, it’s her loss. She can fuss all she wants, but Fred and I already talked about it, and we’re in this for the long haul.” His hand landed on Harry’s shoulder, and he squeezed gently. “If you want us to be, that is.”

Harry nodded. He didn’t have any words at the moment, didn’t think he could thank George without bursting into tears, and he’d already done enough of that recently. Instead, he cleared his throat and looked away.

“Let’s get you some breakfast, yeah?” George asked, changing the subject without bothering to sound like he was doing anything but. “We have eggs, and I can make you some toast, how does that sound?”

Harry tried out a smile, and found that it felt awkward on his face, but not awkward enough to take away. “That sounds good,” he said.

“And then, I thought that maybe we could head down to the lab in the back of the shop, and you could help me out with some experiments?” George was grinning brightly at him now, the expression almost painfully bright.

Harry hesitated. “I’m not exactly good with potions,” he tried. “And charms aren’t really my strong point, either.”

George dismissed the complaint with a wave of his hand. “As if anyone could learn from Snape,” he said. “And Flitwick’s good, but I bet I’m better when it comes to teaching you things relating to pranks. And besides, it’s different because it’s not for a grade. This is just for fun!”

Harry bit his lip and looked away. “If you’re sure I won’t be in the way,” he said, a bit shyly. He didn’t exactly want to be separated from both the twins at once, but he didn’t want to be in their way, either. If George really thought he could help…

“You won’t be,” George promised. He ruffled Harry’s hair, then moved towards the kitchen, humming quietly, no indication of the fight he’d had with his mother in his demeanor.

Harry followed, and hoped that George stayed that cheerful throughout the day. He didn’t think the twins were the type to lose their tempers with him, but… Well, he would just have to do his best to make sure that he didn’t upset them, that was all. He was pretty sure he could do that.

ooOOooOOoo

Rebecca sighed and stared at the busy shop in front of her. She’d never been in, and had, in fact, been quite proud of the fact that she’d never been near the store. Unfortunately, she had no choice but to enter it now, since Harry was in there, and she needed to talk to both Harry and his current guardians.

She stepped into the store, and winced when magic washed over her. It was a tingling sensation, there and gone in a flash, and she sighed when she looked down at herself. “Feathers?” she asked, a bit of unwitting amusement creeping into her voice. There were worse things, she supposed.

One of the twins appeared in front of her, as though summoned. “Ms. Mercier!” he exclaimed, looking a bit horrified. “If we’d known you were coming, we would have disabled—”

“It’s quite all right,” she said, and shivered as she shed the magic in a small explosion of feathers. “I’ve had worse things done to me in the course of my work.” She glanced around at the small crowd of children and young adults exploring the shop and said, “I don’t suppose that now is a good time to speak with you and your brother, is it?”

“It’s not a bad time,” the twin hedged. She thought it was Fred, but she couldn’t quite be sure. Twins had identical magical signatures, after all, and this set of twins particularly enjoyed matching one another.

“If this is too busy a time, I could always have my meeting with Harry first,” Rebecca volunteered. “And then the three of us could speak.”

Some of her colleagues, she knew, would be distressed that the twins were still working when such a vulnerable child had been placed in their care, but Rebecca understood. Harry might be their largest priority, but he wasn’t their only priority. They still had to eat, had to pay their rent, had to maintain their shop. She understood duty, and didn’t think that it made them bad guardians.

Of course, the final choice for who would ultimately be Harry’s true guardian wasn’t going to be up to her, but her opinion would likely be factored in to the decision.

“Harry’s in the back with George,” the twin in front of her, apparently Fred, said, a bit hesitantly. “I think George has him working with some of the pranks. If you want to go on through…”

Rebecca smiled at him, trying to put him at ease. “I think I will,” she said. “You return to your shop, and once I’m done speaking with Harry, we three will talk. That gives you time to prepare.”

“Right,” Fred said. He took a deep breath and visibly braced himself, then turned around and dove right back into the throng of eager and amazed shopgoers.

Rebecca made her way to the back of the shop, then opened the door after tapping on it lightly. Just as she opened it, there was an explosion of pink sparkles and blue smoke, followed by a childish giggle. When the smoke cleared, it revealed Harry sitting there with a dusting of blue powder with pink glitter.

“It didn’t work,” he called to George, looking younger than he had the last time Rebecca had seen him.

“Oh, drat,” George said, not sounding particularly surprised. He glanced at Rebecca, his smile fading ever so slightly. “Ms. Mercier,” he greeted.

When Harry noticed her, she was alarmed to see all pleasure fade from his expression. His eyes went cold, his lips pinched into a frown. “Hi,” he offered, his voice much more subdued.

“Hello Harry,” she said, keeping her voice light and calm. “I need to speak with you in private about some things, if that’s okay with you.”

Harry flinched and glanced at George. “Can’t George stay?” he asked. “Or Fred?” His fingers were knotting into fists on the metal work table, and his lips were trembling slightly. He probably didn’t even realize it, but she could hear the panic in his voice.

It didn’t sit well with her. Technically, she was supposed to have this conversation with him alone, not because the twins couldn’t hear about it, but because of Harry’s own privacy. Quietly, she said, “We would be talking about things that need to happen, and there’s a chance you might not want to talk about these things with the twins around.”

Harry swallowed hard, his eyes dropping down to the table. He nodded once. “Okay,” he said, and there was something different in his voice. Something stronger, a bit like a steel core that she hadn’t seen evidence of.

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. It was like being in a room filled with electricity, and she had to admit that she wasn’t wild about the feeling. “If you would be more comfortable—” she started, only to stop when Harry shook his head once, sharply.

“It’s fine,” Harry said. His voice was brittle, and when he looked back at her, all the emotion was gone from his eyes. “You probably need to talk to me about the Dursleys, anyway, and I’m sure that George doesn’t want to hear that, either.”

Before she could object, explain that she didn’t need to ask him about the Dursleys at all since Vernon was telling them everything, Harry was saying, “It’ll be fine, George. I’ll be okay.”

George was looking at her like she was some kind of monster, now, and Rebecca honestly couldn’t blame him. “I’ll be careful with him,” she said, instead of trying to protest her innocence. If she were George, she wouldn’t have believed herself either.

“Okay,” George said, clearly reluctant. He left the room after saying, quietly, to Harry, “If you need us, just come outside, okay? Or send Rebecca out. I’m sure she’d be willing to come and get us.”

Harry nodded, the gesture short and sharp. “What do you need to know?” he asked, once George was gone and the door had closed quietly behind him.

“We’re already getting plenty of information from Vernon,” she said quietly. She sat at the work table across from Harry, on the other stool. “What I really wanted to talk to you about was what’s going to happen next. I don’t need to ask you questions about the Dursleys, but if you need to talk to me about them, I’m willing to listen.”

Harry shook his head quickly. “I don’t need to talk about them,” he said, his voice shaking. “But thank you.” He swallowed. “What needs to happen next, then?”

“You need to be evaluated by two different types of professionals,” she said. She didn’t dare reach out and touch the hand that was closest to her, but she wanted to. She always wanted to touch the children she worked with, to comfort them, and it was only the fact that they wouldn’t see her touch as comforting that held her back.

“Evaluated?” Harry echoed, his voice steady. He didn’t look at all afraid, now. His brow was furrowed and he looked almost… angry.

She didn’t know why. “Yes. A regular Healer will need to look you over and see if your Muggle relatives did any permanent damage to you, and a Mind Healer will start working with you on any lingering traumas. You’ll likely need several visits to both.”

Harry’s face twisted, and then he looked down at the table before Rebecca could identify the emotion on it. “I didn’t know that wizards had therapists,” he whispered. His voice was shaking again. “Would they just be talking to me about stuff with the Dursleys, or about Hogwarts stuff too?”

Rebecca blinked. “Do you need to talk about things at Hogwarts?” she asked, probing and careful. If there was some impropriety going on at the school… well, she was just childish enough to be pleased to have more ammunition against Dumbledore. And, of course, anything like that would need to be dealt with swiftly.

Without speaking, Harry extended his hand to her. At first, Rebecca didn’t understand what she was looking at, but as she studied the frail hand in front of her, the words I must not tell lies, written in the boy’s own handwriting, became clear to her.

“Oh,” she breathed, not able to say anything else. It took her several tries and then, carefully, she asked, “Can you tell me who did that to you?”

Harry’s eyes darted up, sharp and assessing, and in that second, Rebecca felt as though she’d been stripped to the core, and that Harry had seen all of her, and had not found her lacking. “Madame Umbridge,” he said, dropping his gaze once more.

Rebecca breathed out, the sound more of a small sigh than the shriek of rage she wanted to let loose. “Thank you,” she said quietly, and made a quick note in her file. “I’ll see what I can do to have her brought to trial for her crimes against you.”

“Against a lot of Muggleborns, actually,” Harry corrected. He was studying the table intently, his fingers tracing the edge of a bright green stain on the table. “Not just me. But thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Rebecca said reflexively. More students affected. This had the potential to be a nightmare. All the students would need to be interviewed, and that was just to start. Who knew what else had been going on at the school while Dumbledore had been in power? The man was clearly out of his mind to allow such abuses.

“So can they help with those sorts of traumas too?” Harry asked. “I mean, the scar’s not that bad, but there are other things…” He stopped talking abruptly, and his hand went still. He probably hadn’t meant to tell her as much as he just had.

Rebecca took another deep breath. “They can help you with whatever you need help with,” she said, keeping her voice as light and gentle as she could. “Whether you need to talk about your family, or your school years. Whatever you need.”

Harry nodded. He didn’t look at her again. “Do you need to tell me anything else?” he asked. His hands were trembling, and his voice had the slightest bit of a waiver to it.

“No,” she said quietly. “Not if there’s nothing else you would like to talk to me about, not right now.”

She was supposed to tell him about the trials, about the way his future custody would be determined, but she wasn’t an idiot. The child was moments away from a magical explosion, and with the delicate emotional state he was likely in, she didn’t dare risk pushing him any further.

“Then I’d like to go upstairs to my room,” he said. He pushed away from the table and left the room before Rebecca could say anything else.

The twins practically fell in before the door closed.

“What did—”

“—you do to him?” they demanded.

“We were just talking about the two types of healers he’ll need to see,” she said quietly, refusing to be intimidated or irritated by their habit of finishing each other’s sentences. They’d done it numerous times when they’d been giving their initial reports, and she was starting to get used to it.

“Two types of healers?” one of them asked. George, she thought. He was wearing Fred’s nametag, but she could see just a hint of the powder on his hands that had exploded on Harry earlier.

“We don’t really…” the other, Fred, trailed off and looked away. There was a slight flush on his cheeks.

Rebecca caught on quickly. “Of course, because Harry is currently a ward of the Ministry, we’ll cover the expenses of the Healers.” She smiled and stood, taking a leaf out of Harry’s books. She just wouldn’t give them a chance to argue. She understood pride.

Instead, she handed them a piece of parchment. “These are the list of Ministry-approved Healers and Mind Healers. He’ll need to see one of each within the upcoming week, and all have available appointments. If you cannot find a suitable one, please let us know and we will make other arrangements.”

She bowed to them and, again, before they could object, swept from the shop. She was rather grateful that there wasn’t a prank on the outgoing traffic, because she could see how that would be better for advertising. Perhaps she’d suggest it to them during an upcoming conversation.

Perhaps during a meeting not at their shop. She didn’t particularly want to be pranked again.

ooOOooOOoo

Fred took a deep breath, staring after Ms. Mercier. Rebecca. He didn’t know which they were supposed to call her, but he supposed erring on the side of caution was for the best. At least, as long as they wanted to keep custody of Harry.

Which they did, of course. Even if this was getting more complicated than they’d thought it would be.

“But maybe it should be complicated,” George pointed out.

As always, they were on the same wavelength. “It’s not like anything’s ever been easy for Harry before,” Fred said. “Why shouldn’t this be complicated and confusing?”

“And a Mind Healer would probably be good for him,” George continued, although there was some doubt in his voice.

Neither of them had ever been to see one. Still… “I hear they work wonders,” Fred muttered. “And if he’s going to start seeing one, we should be as supportive as we can, right?”

“Right,” George agreed. He studied the stack of names, then sighed. “I guess we’ll start making plans with Verity to have some more time off. Maybe we should get another assistant.”

Fred thought over their finances, then shrugged. “It’s not a bad idea,” he said. “We can afford it, I think. And it would probably be good for Harry to have us around a bit more than we could otherwise be.”

George nodded. He glanced at Fred, then back at the list. “Speaking of, why don’t I stay down with the shop and you go up and spend some time with him? I had the morning; you should take the afternoon.”

Fred didn’t argue. “We’ll see you after the shop closes,” he replied.

He went upstairs, then into their apartment. He stood outside of Harry’s door, and hesitated before tapping lightly on it. There was no answer. Had Harry fallen asleep again?

Fred tapped again, then shrugged and opened the door. He was hit by a blast of sound, of broken sobs coming from somewhere on the bed. He didn’t hesitate to climb into the bed with Harry, to find his adopted brother in the bundle of blankets he’d hidden in, and to haul Harry into his lap.

He leaned back against the headboard and rocked back and forth, murmuring soothing things to the sobbing fifteen-year-old. He would be sixteen, soon enough, but Fred didn’t dwell too much on that. It made him want to scream, to think that nobody had probably ever comforted Harry like this. How his mother couldn’t understand the trauma…

But his anger had no place here. So he rocked Harry, and he murmured soothing things, and eventually Harry calmed down just enough to stop crying, and to sit in Fred’s arms and shake.

Well, Fred couldn’t let Harry feel ashamed of his tears, so he started a story about the time he and George had accidentally died their hair different colors, and by the end of it, he had his adopted little brother laughing quietly.

And if the sound had some hiccups from Harry’s leftover tears, well, Fred was certainly magnanimous enough not to comment on it.


End file.
